


Not a miracle

by elletromil



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Ghosts, Horror, Supernatural Elements, slight body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/pseuds/elletromil
Summary: The world is full of wonders.It's also full of terrors.
Relationships: Ginger Ale & Harry Hart | Galahad, Harry Hart | Galahad & Merlin & Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Merlin & Roxy Morton | Lancelot
Kudos: 11





	1. never was

**Author's Note:**

> So since I saw [this post](https://gallusrostromegalus.tumblr.com/post/170953901583/most-definitely-human-brunhiddensmusings) on tumblr a few years ago, I've been meaning to try my hand at writing something based on it. And I've finally done it and just in time for the spooky season!
> 
> If you are looking for my usual fluff, I'd advise against this story, because please note that this is very much not tagged as fluff. And that the very first tag is Horror and it's there for a very good reason.
> 
> A big big thank to Red, Rosa and Britt for reading it as I went along.
> 
> A new chapter will be updated every saturday until Halloween ;)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

A sound like coughing makes him stop and peer into the dark alley. But with the nearest streetlight much further down the road and the moon hidden behind the clouds that have been threatening to let their rain down on London all day, he can't make out much besides vague shapes.

"Is someone there?" He calls out, still half-turned towards his friends who, of course, have not slowed down in the slightest. They're not the best at paying attention at their surroundings in the first place and even less so after drinking as much as they did tonight.

Not that Eggsy is all that much better, but his shoelace was undone and he lagged behind to tie it before he could trip on it.

There's a weird gurgle from the alley, something that could be words maybe. Eggsy takes a step in that direction without thinking.

It's hard to tell, but he thinks he sees a form propped up low against the wall a bit further in. It could very well be someone.

"Oy mate, do you need help?" It's probably just some random bum, if it's anything at all. But if it is the case, well, Eggsy can spare them his last tenner. They'll need it more than he does.

Already, he's got his hands in his pockets, trying to fish out the money, but he can't remember which one exactly holds it.

"Help…"

It sounds more like a rasp, but this time, it's definitely a word.

There's a shadow that could be a hand reaching out for him and it's only then that he realises how far he's walked into the alley.

He's very close to the shape against the wall now, close enough that he can definitely see their pale face as, _somehow_ , another plea for help is rasped out.

A shiver runs up his spine because there is something undeniably _wrong_ here. There is something _wrong_ and Eggsy needs to _go_.

But it's like he's rooted into place, incapable of tearing his gaze away and even less so to take a step back and the shadow that could be a hand is creeping closer to his leg and when did it came so close, soon it'll grab onto him and Eggsy needs to _move_ but he _can't_ and-

"Eggsy, there you are mate!"

Jamal's hand closes around his shoulder and tugs him backward and out of the alley before the shadow can reach him. He stumbles a bit when his feet hit the sidewalk again, but Jamal is right there to support his weight as he continues to drag him towards the rest of their friends.

They're all waiting by the streetlamp and Eggsy can hear them laugh about something and if he suddenly starts walking faster to get back to them, Jamal doesn't seem to find it strange.

Ryan throws an arm around his shoulders once he's close enough, his solid weight leaning into him as he pokes his cheek. It would be annoying, it _is_ annoying, but it's also _normal_ and he starts to feel warmth slipping back into his body again.

"What were you doing back there?"

They've started walking again, putting more and more distance between them and the alley. Ryan turns his head as if he could see what had held his attention from where they are now. But the night's too dark beyond the streetlamp to make out anything.

Or so Eggsy assumes.

He sure doesn't turn around to check for himself.

"Nothing. I just, just thought I heard- something."

It's not a lie. Not really.

Even though he had thought it was some _one_ at first, there is no doubt in his mind he had been sorely mistaken.

He's seen the thing's face after all.

And _no one_ could speak without a mouth.


	2. aren't anymore

The floor is wet from the leaking ceiling in the reception area of the abandoned sanatorium, but she doesn’t dare wander farther into the building. Even if she could possibly find a room less damp, she could also very well get hurt for venturing into a building that should definitely have been torn down decades ago.

She wouldn’t have stepped inside if it wasn’t for the raging thunderstorm outside. Wandering through the woods in such weather would be pure madness and Roxy is everything but reckless. She has no time-sensitive information to relay and so, there is no need for her to hurry up to meet with the recovery team. Especially not when Merlin himself pointed out to her the direction of her current shelter.

She sits down with her back against a wall, making sure she has a view both on the front doors and on the corridor that leads farther into the sanatorium. She doesn’t fear any pursuer, but she’s noticed that some of the grafitis seemed to be somewhat recent. She might not be the only one waiting out the storm inside.

Which is just another reason for her not to venture any further in.

She half-wishes she had a blanket or could risk making a fire, but as long as she doesn’t have to sit out in the pouring rain, she can deal with a bit of discomfort.

She’s not quite _tensed_ as she is _alert_ , but she still jumps at the sudden thundering that rumbles all around her, shaking the very ground under her. But that’s not what makes her skin break into goosebumps, her heart beat faster, her fingers clench around her gun.

Thunder, no matter how loud, is just a natural occurrence.

The giggles coming from deep within the building aren’t.

From a distance, with the strong pitter-patter of the rain against the long broken windows, it’s hard to judge just how old the voices are. She thinks they’re on the younger side, but she wouldn’t bet on it either.

She debates with herself if she should investigate after all. That’s when the sound of running feet join in with the laughter and she decides to stay put. She doesn’t think she’s _in_ any danger, but if she was to be suddenly surprised by a running child, she could be _a_ danger.

It’s better to stay in her easily defensible position, as much for herself as for whoever is also sheltering from the storm.

She’s not sure how long she stays immobile, listening to the storm getting further and further away. A few times, she thinks she hears whispering behind her. But whenever she turns around, there’s of course nothing for her to see but the wall.

It takes her some time to realise that the distant giggling has stopped and that she cannot hear any other movement from elsewhere in the building. If it wasn’t for the rain, the silence would feel eerie.

It takes even longer to notice the two small forms standing in the shadows inside the corridor.

She jumps.

Again.

She’s still holding her gun.

But she doesn’t point it at the two silhouettes.

She doesn’t feel threatened after all. Just uneasy.

“Miss, Miss? Won’t you come and play?”

She can’t see very well, but this is definitely a child’s voice. Her heart breaks over imagining what could have possibly led children to feel safe in such a place.

She gets up slowly. They don’t seem afraid of her, but they’re also not coming any closer.

She keeps the gun in her hand.

“What are you doing here? Are your parents around?”

She’s making her way over to them slowly. It’s dark and the floor is wet and one can never be too safe in such an old building. That’s what she tells herself anyway.

She’s not quite reached the edge of the reception area when a sudden flash of lighting suddenly illuminates the corridor.

She gasps.

And nearly drops her gun.

“Miss? Won’t you come and play? Please Miss!”

She takes a few steps back, wordlessly shaking her head.

They’re back to being mere shadows, but she’s not sure if it’s actually better. The sight of their rotting flesh would have been easier to look at than everything her imagination supplies in the darkness.

“Miss?”

She’s still walking away. Still shaking her head.

“I- I need to go. I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t know why she bothers with apologizing, but she does it anyway. Their milky white eyes might have been unseeing, lost in a past long forgotten by anyone living, but they’re still kids.

She hits the front door and she finally turns her back on the shadows as she all but trips outside.

It’s still raining so she doesn’t run, but it’s a near thing.

“-elot? Do you hear me, Lancelot?”

It’s only with his voice in her ear that she realises Merlin had been strangely silent since she came sight of the sanatorium earlier.

“Merlin? I- I hear you Merlin.” She’s not sure how she sounds like with the way her heartbeat is hammering inside her ears. Relieved? Scared? She’s feeling both.

“Good. We lost your signal for a while there. There’s always some issues with those old buildings.” There’s a pause and Roxy nearly whimpers at the sudden silence. She realises Merlin was probably waiting for a response of some sort when he continues, something careful in his tone. “Lancelot? You know you could have waited out the storm properly? Even if we lost the signal, we know where you are. You could always go ba-”

“No!” She rarely interrupts Merlin, but she can’t stop herself. She is never going back. She’s not sure if she’d be allowed to leave again were she to ever return there. “No, no, it’s fine. A little rain won’t hurt me.” She finishes more gently, but she doesn’t need to be a spy to hear the concern in Merlin’s silence.

But she doesn’t know how to reassure him.

Doesn’t know if she _can_. Not without talking about what she thinks just happened and- And that, she definitely _can’t_ do.

In the end, she settles for doing something that’s easier but also harder in some ways. She asks for what she _needs_.

“Merlin? Can you- can you speak to me?”

She doesn’t have to ask twice.

Merlin’s inane chatter doesn’t break off until she is out of the woods, his voice helping her ignore the sounds of giggles following after her.


	3. might never have been

Even with the emergency lights on, Ginger can barely see a thing. In fact, the lights only seem to cast the familiar corridors into worrisome shadows. It's disquieting enough that it could possibly trouble less practical minds.

But Ginger has never been afraid of the dark and the unknown it represents.

Humans are the only monsters she’s concerned with.

Anyway, with the raging storm outside, she’s not surprised they lost the power. The generators should kick in just about in time for her to get to the elevator and then she’ll be heading home for the night.

As she rounds the corner, she freezes suddenly when she notices a man-shaped shadow standing in front of the closed elevator doors down the corridor. Before she consciously registers the possible threat, her gun is already pointing in that direction.

She takes a few deep breaths as she focuses on bringing her heartbeat down under control.

She really should have been alone since most Statesmen avoid the medical floor if they’re not actively dying, but for the last few weeks, it’s not quite true.

They’ve got their John Doe in the infirmary still. And while he hasn’t seemed inclined to disobey any medical order so far, including the one confining him to bed rest, the unfamiliarity of the power outage was probably enough to set him out in search of someone.

After all, even if John Doe might physically be in his fifties, from all her interactions with him so far, he gives off the painfully polite impression of a youth barely in their twenties.

“John?” While it’s (probably) not it’s real name, that’s what she’s been calling him since he woke up with no recollection of his identity. It’s familiar enough that he would know to respond to it by now and she sees the form turning toward her. “It’s okay John, the power just went out. Let’s get you back to your room. It’s probably going to be back by then.”

He’s already walking up to her, so she doesn’t wait to see if he’s going to follow before she starts heading back to where she came from, holstering her weapon back.

The sooner he’s back in his bed, the sooner she’ll be in hers.

Her heart is still beating fast even if she _knows_ there are no intruders now.

Not that it’s really surprising. After all, the consecutive jolts of adrenaline first from the power outage and then from meeting someone when no one should have been up and about will take some time to completely disperse.

With John behind her, the shadows take on even stranger forms than earlier. Her own is easily recognizable as herself, but something in the distance between them makes John’s shadow stretch and expand into shapes that barely resemble a human.

The limbs are far too long for one. And she can’t seem to get a definitive count on them. Some other appendages seem to extend from his torso, ones she would liken to the shapes of the wings of the butterflies John is so fascinated with. That’s probably why she is next tricked into thinking that she sees antennas protruding from his shadow’s head.

It’s a good thing she isn’t afraid of the dark, or she would have been terrified by now.

Or she would turn back to make sure that it _is_ really John who has been following her silently.

Her skin rises in goosebumps.

John isn’t exactly _chatty_ , but he _always_ answers, even if it’s only to a greeting. She can’t remember hearing him reply when he was standing by the elevator.

She can’t even hear him _now_. Not his footsteps, not the rustling of his clothes, not his breathing…

But she _knows_ he is still behind her, slowly gaining ground. Ineluctably.

His shadow overlapping with hers bit by bit. _Devouring_ hers.

She definitely needs to sleep.

She stops at the infirmary door, pushing it open as she steps to the side to let John pass in front of her.

As she turns to him, her comforting smile is lost to her silent scream as she makes eye contact with _what_ has been behind her the whole time, shadowy limbs raise to her, poised to _grab_ her, close, so _close_ , and-

The lights turn back on.

She blinks once.

Twice.

Her eyes watering at the sudden harsh brightness.

She’s alone in the empty corridor.

“Miss Ginger? Is that you?”

She jumps, her hand hovering over her gun, but when she peeks into the room, it’s only John sitting up in his bed, peering at her curiously.

“Miss Ginger? Is everything alright?”

No, she wants to answer. Nothing is alright.

But that’s not true.

She’s just sleep-deprived. This was just a hallucination triggered by stress.

Nothing a good rest won’t fix.

But she is absolutely terrified at the prospect of walking down the corridor again, even when it’s not bathed in shadows.

“It’s- it’s fine John, everything is alright.” Her voice doesn’t shake _too_ much. “There was a power outage, I was making sure you were okay.”

She gets into the room properly, closing the door behind her, which she doesn’t usually do but John doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh. I’m okay. I was sleeping until the door opened. Thank you for your concern.” He smiles and it’s polite, but the appearance of two adorable dimples also means it’s completely genuine.

She feels herself slowly start to unwind in the presence of another human being and decides it’s best if she sleeps in one of the spare infirmary beds tonight. Even if she is far more likely to protect him than he is to protect her, she feels safe now with John.

“I’m sleeping here tonight, it’s too late to head home. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No! No, of course I don’t mind!” He shakes his head eagerly. It’s not like he’s got any authority here anyway. But he’s always been so polite and respectful towards her that he’s earned the right to be treated exactly the same. “What about your friend?”

She frowns, unsure what he means. She’s pretty sure John hasn’t met anyone else but her so far.

“What friend?”

“The one that was in the corridor just now. Will they be sleeping here too?”

Her blood turns cold, but when she looks over at John he doesn’t look afraid or disturbed or anything really. Simply politely curious.

“I- No. No they won’t.” She forces herself to answer, before going back to the door and locking it. “Go back to sleep John, it’s late.”

John hums and wishes her goodnight, his breathing evening out into sleep quickly.

It’s not long before she slides into the empty bed to his left, trying to ignore how her body is shaking minutely, forcing herself to face the door. She’s being ridiculous, she knows it. It was only a trick of her overtired mind. A half-dream from a barely awake John.

She’s never been afraid of the dark. She won’t start now.

But just for tonight, she doesn’t turn off the lights.


	4. is not

Shock has Merlin feeling completely numb.

Which might actually be a blessing considering how he is currently staring at what was definitely one of his legs laying just a couple of meters away from him. What’s left of it anyway.

Distantly, he wonders how long it’ll take before he loses consciousness.

Before he _dies_.

There can be no coming back from this, he knew it the moment he chose to take Eggsy’s place on the mine.

He only realises he’s closed his eyes when he opens them again in a panic. He can’t move, can’t even feel his body, not really, but it still doesn’t stop him from trying to shuffle _away_ , his survival instincts going haywire.

He’s grateful no one is around to witness how at the very last moment he tries to escape the inevitable. How he cowers from a death he had thought he had made peace with.

But no.

It’s not death that has him hopelessly trying to flee.

It’s the jungle.

Or rather, it’s what is _coming_ from the jungle.

It’s not so dark in the shade of the trees that he can’t make out details, but surely his vision has become blurry from a combination of blood loss and a commotion.

That or being at death’s door has him hallucinating.

Because if he’s sure of one thing about what he’s seeing, it’s that it can’t possibly be _real_.

It’s standing near his leg now and Merlin’s head hurts as he tries to comprehend the being that is towering above him.

It moves, slithers closer, the leg disappearing into a wriggling mass of decayed sprouts that would be a limb on any creature known to man. It _would_ be, yes, except it’s very obviously _not_ , not in a way that makes _sense_.

It crawls closer again and a frightened whimper escapes his throat as he’s being studied with alien curiosity. There are no eyes fixing him, at least none where he would expect to find them, but he’s still definitely being _watched_.

 _Judged_.

Maybe it _is_ Death.

Maybe this uncontrollable terror gripping what is left of his mangled body is simply because he’s still somehow clinging to life.

It comes closer still and darkness encompasses him, but it’s not the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. It’s a probing darkness, wet and warm, tangible, _alive_.

 _Impossibly_ alive.

He opens his mouth to scream but there’s no air.

There’s no _air_ and no one to hear the sound anyway.

~

When he wakes up again, he’s still in darkness, but it’s the familiar darkness of the night. The arms that hold him tight aren’t rotting and growing at the same time. The bodies pressed against his aren’t incomprehensible in their magnitude.

Harry and Eggsy are both openly sobbing without a shame, relief and wonder at having found him alive.

Alive and unscathed.

 _Whole_.

Merlin looks once at his bare legs, the fabric of his trousers not having withstood the force of the explosion, before looking away, bile rising in his throat.

It _is_ his legs.

But it shouldn’t be possible.

He’s seen their gory remains close enough that he could have touched them had he had any strength left to move at the time.

Eggsy says it’s a miracle.

Harry nods in fervent agreement, face still pressed against Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin…

Merlin feels numb.

He doesn’t know what this is.

Doesn’t know what _it_ was.

But he’s got one conviction.

Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t a miracle.


End file.
